Category Archives: Journal

Steps, Pangborn Park, Hagerstown, Maryland, January 2013

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Sandstone Girl and Snow

She was my mother’s favorite. For a long time, she had a life on the edge of a patio, but when she started to melt, she was put beneath an eave behind the house, my parent’s last, in Rockville, Maryland. … Continue reading

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Chillin’, And You Would Be Too at Minus Nine Celsius

Very cool news: the studio brought in a little bit of web work, and I’m going to munch through those hours in just a little bit. In the preceding post, you saw Dean’s picture of me taking a picture (now … Continue reading

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Dean Brings a Camera

My winter silhouette resembles Hitchcock’s. For a few hours, Dean escaped Dean’s version of Dodge City, zipped over the mountains and stopped by for a walk in the park chased by decaf, a bowl of chili, and a slice of … Continue reading

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Winter Fireworks,Tilghman Island Inn, Maryland, December 2001

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Season’s First Snow, Hunter Hill, Hagerstown, Maryland, December 24, 2012

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Corner Bar & Grill, Hagerstown, Maryland, December 2006

Metal splints and sub-freezing cold do not mix! How I should like to be out with a camera on a cold winter’s night again: perhaps I will get my chance in February. The two photographs here showed up on the … Continue reading

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Busted! But the Finger Will Live.

Digital tragedy strikes “writer, photographer, musician” . . . . πŸ™‚ Right hand, long finger, first segment, tendon over the knuckle, AKA “mallet finger” (#&%@! fitted sheet, mattress, and contoured convex foot board). 😦 Splint: two-inch “ski tip” with foam … Continue reading

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About Those Walks in the Park . . . .

I gathered together a collection of old short stories this morning — several of them are online here — for a first shot at Amazon e-publishing. Of course, nothing goes smoothly. Files archived from earlier than Word 2003 days were … Continue reading

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β€œTaps”, Congregation Cemetery, Western Maryland, November 11, 2012

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The Quiet Hour: Toward Change III

I see I have gotten a bit loose with the online journal today but perhaps too have turned a corner: one cannot undo yesterday; I haven’t much love of soap opera; suffice it to say I have entered a writer’s … Continue reading

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The Quiet Hour: Toward Change II – “The Hellidays”

The father, biological, of a friend of mine is in the hospital today, bereft of his habitual smokes, weak, and perhaps passing away. The friend is most private, and perhaps in this tender area, most people, most families, are, but … Continue reading

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